• Time, time time, see what’s become of me…

    *TW* Yesterday marked the first day I have set foot in my own home in over two months…and five weeks since I was sectioned under the Mental Health Act. I was allowed home for a few hours on the condition that Shaun collected me, stayed with me and brought me back that evening. I am…

  • “I’m empty and aching and I don’t know why…”

    They tell me in here to start journaling and that, each day, I should write down three things I am grateful for. This, on top of the five things I can see, four things I can touch, three things I can hear, two things I can smell and one thing I can taste, feels like…

  • There is a crack, a crack in everything…

    It’s 3.34 am – I want to write an angry letter to Leonard Cohen. Then I remember that Leonard Cohen is dead and this would be an entirely futile venture. I go online to confirm that his death is an *actual thing that happened* as opposed to just something my brain has cobbled together out…

  • “It’s that little souvenir of a terrible year…”

    For the first few weeks of my admission, I steadfastly avoided attending any of the OT groups, or social sessions. Almost as steadfastly as I avoided washing or changing my pyjamas until my Doctor gently remarked on this fact and the shame kicked in for just long enough to nudge me into the shower. I…